


Mistaken Identity

by armaggedidnt (dragonLeighs)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, I wrote it at 3am, Mistaken Identity, Post-Apocalypse, Sort Of, im not really sure what this is, it's funny i hope, teen rating for bad language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 06:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonLeighs/pseuds/armaggedidnt
Summary: A simple case of mistaken identity causes a lot of confusion when two teens accidentally summon an angel instead of a demon.





	Mistaken Identity

It was a perfectly ordinary evening in Aziraphale’s bookshop. The angel and demon had returned from dinner a few hours ago and had almost finished their third bottle of wine. Crowley was trying to retell an unfortunate incident he had in ancient Greece but was finding it difficult as they both kept bursting out in laughter. It didn’t help that they were both very drunk and tonight everything seemed especially hilarious. 

It was while they were both trying to recover from the latest bout of giggles that Aziraphale felt a sudden tugging at his angelic essence. The surprise of it caused him to partially sober up entirely by accident. Crowley immediately picked up that something was wrong and sobered up a bit too. “Angel, wha’sssup?” he said, hissing slightly with drunkenness. 

“I’m not sure.” He’d started subconsciously rubbing circles into his chest as if trying to ease a sudden pain there. He decided, rather begrudgingly, to sober up completely. That was a mistake. The odd feeling in his chest turned into a dull ache and he suddenly realised he was being summoned. 

“Oh no. Crowley, someone’s summoning me.” 

“Is it Heaven?” the slight drunken hissing was gone. 

“No, I think it’s somewhere on Earth.” He didn’t get a chance to say anything else before another tug at his angelic being yanked him from his bookshop and dumped him unceremoniously on the ground in an empty field. 

Well, empty except for the two figures standing in front of him. He scrambled to his feet, trying to retain some dignity. The figures in front of him were two boys in their late teens and wore cheap black polyester robes, likely bought from a Halloween shop. The shorter of the two was holding a rather ancient book and both stood in silence. 

Aziraphale went to walk toward them but noticed the holding circle on the grass in white paint. He inspected the sigils and although the work was sloppy, they seemed to be doing the job of supressing his angelic powers and keeping him contained. The circle didn't seem like it was designed for angels specifically so if he really needed to he could probably break free but it would leave him drained.

He was so engrossed in examining the sigils that he had forgotten about the two rather stunned humans who had summoned him in the first place. That was until one of them nervously cleared their throat to get his attention. “Demon,” the taller one spoke, “we summoned you to do our bidding. We-” 

“Demon? My dear, there seems to be some mistake. I’m not a demon.” Aziraphale said, faintly irritated. 

There was a pause as the two humans tried to make sense of what was happening. “If you’re not a demon then how could we summon you then?” the shorter one said. 

“I’m not entirely sure.” Aziraphale was just as puzzled as the humans. No one had successfully summoned him on Earth before, not to say no one had tried.

“Well then if you’re not a demon then what are you?” the taller one said. 

“I’m an angel.” 

“How do we know you’re not lying?” 

“Angels don’t lie,” he said, which itself was a lie of course. Aziraphale had lied to Heaven plenty of times. He’d even lied to God Herself, although he had a feeling She knew exactly what had happened. 

“Demons do though,” the short one said, as if he’d managed to trap the maybe-demon in a corner. 

All Aziraphale could do was let out a frustrated sigh and almost had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. The taller one broke the silence. “If you’re not the demon Ezraphel then who is?” 

“What?” Aziraphale said in a voice slightly too high for his liking. Despite the mispronunciation, the name was quite clearly still his. The spelling had changed many times over the centuries, humans could never decide on things for very long. Normally he'd be inclined to correct them but as he was still in the holding circle he didn't want to give away his actual name. “Who told you I’m a demon?” 

“So you are Ezraphel then? Gotta say, you don’t look like how he described you.” 

“Who did? What are you on about?” The angel was utterly confused for the first time in a very long time. He didn’t like not knowing. 

The shorter one seemed to grow impatient. “Look, if you’re not going to do as we command then we’ll force you to do it.” He nudged the taller one with his elbow and he promptly reached into a bag Aziraphale hadn’t noticed before and pulled out a sports bottle. The angel could instantly feel the weak holy energy radiating off it. Low quality Holy water no doubt. Not enough to kill a demon but it would certainly cause some nasty burns. Aziraphale was getting the impression that these boys were mostly doing the whole demon summoning thing for what Crowley would probably call “shits and giggles” and that they’d done the bare minimum in research.

The boy popped the top open and brandished the bottle in front of him. “I warn you demon, this is real Holy water. We took it right from the church.” That would explain the poor quality of the blessing. Church Holy water was never very potent. 

Aziraphale simply raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to cross his arms. He really was getting rather fed up with this whole performance. He just wanted to get back to being drunk with Crowley in the back room of his bookshop. 

Losing patience, the boy decided to squeeze the bottle directly onto Aziraphale. Obviously, nothing happened other than the trapped angel became even more irritated. “Now what did you do that for?” he asked, looking down at his soaked shirt. 

“I thought you said you got it from the church,” the short one said.

“I did, I swear. Maybe they forgot to bless it or something.” 

“How dumb are you Jack? Of course they blessed the fucking water.” So that was the taller one’s name. 

The bickering continued for what must have been at least five minutes, completely forgetting about the definitely-not-a-demon still trapped in the shoddy holding circle. They probably would’ve continued all night if Aziraphale hadn’t gotten their attention. 

“Excuse me, now that you know I’m not a demon, I don’t suppose you could release me?” 

“What?” Jack turned his head in his direction, slightly surprise he was still there. “Oh, uh, yeah. You’re not going to smite us or something are you?” 

“I don’t really think there’s much need for that.” 

The two boys looked back at each other, looking rather sheepish. “We don’t actually know how to release you,” Not-Jack said. 

“Oh my. You two really are the worst occultists I’ve ever met. All you have to do is erase the sigils on the ground.” They looked at him blankly. “Just, pour some paint on the lines,” he said with a sigh. 

Not-Jack picked up a mostly empty can of paint and poured the remaining contents over the lines on the ground. Instantly Aziraphale felt himself be released and the sudden rush of his returning powers caused him to manifest his wings. 

The boys shrieked in surprise and Aziraphale barely contained a laugh. He stepped away from the remains of the holding circle. “Right, I don’t suppose either of you would be so kind as to tell me where we are?” 

“Swindon,” they said in unison. 

“Ah, I see. Do either of you have a mobile telephone I could borrow?” 

Not-Jack dug in his trouser pocket before handing the angel his phone. "Why do you need a phone? Don't you live in Heaven?" Jack asked.

"Not anymore," he replied in a tone that invited no arguement. Aziraphale dialled the number from memory. After one ring there was an answer. “Who is this? How did you get this number?” the demon growled from the other end of the line. 

“Crowley It’s me. Listen, I’m somewhere in Swindon. I’m perfectly fine but I was hoping you’d be able to bring me back to London.” 

“Uh, yeah. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” The demon hung up, never one for proper goodbyes. Theoretically, half an hour was not enough time to get to Swindon from London but this was Crowley. He’d probably be early. 

He handed the phone back to not-Jack after wiping the number from his phone. Both would-be occultists were staring at him in disbelief. “Oh my, is something the matter?” 

“That... was Crowley.” Jack finally said. Aziraphale’s earlier confusion returned in full force. 

“How do you know about Crowley?” 

“The book. Your names are in the book. But...” 

“But what? Which book?” 

“The book we used to summon you.” Not-Jack said. “It mentions the Demon Ezraphel and the Angel Crowley. We were trying to summon the demon but we got you instead.” 

“Let me see this book,” he said in a way that left no room for argument.

Not-Jack picked up the book from where he’d dropped in in the grass and handed it to the being who was most definitely an angel, if his pure white wings were anything to go by. Aziraphale took the book. It was at least a few centuries old but wasn’t a large volume like the majority of books from back then. For such a small book, it did contain a lot of nonsense about occult and ethereal beings. He flicked through the pages until he came to the section the boys had been using to summon him. In it he found both his and Crowley’s names mentioned multiple times as well as details on how to summon him. What caught him off guard was the descriptions the author had given for the two beings. The description for “Ezraphel” almost exactly matched Crowley. Red hair, dark clothes, sunglasses at all times, including night and indoors. Likewise, “Crowley” was quite obviously supposed to be himself. 

Aziraphale searched the front pages for the name of the author, wondering if it had been someone he had known. The name seemed unfamiliar to him but perhaps Crowley would know. “I say, where on earth did you find this book?” 

“It was in my dad’s attic,” Not-Jack said with a shrug. “Thought it was a bunch of nonsense but we decided to try it out anyway.”

“I see. I’m afraid I can’t let you keep it. It could still be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands.” 

“’s alright. Wasn’t planning on using it again anyway.” 

Aziraphale turned his attention back to the book and continued to look through its ancient pages. He firmly decided that the author had no idea what he was talking about. It was pure chance that the ritual had worked at all. He looked up briefly to see the two teens staring at him still. “It’s rude to stare you know.” 

“Uh, sorry. It’s just...” Not-Jack trailed off. 

“You’ve got actual wings,” Jack finished for his accomplice. 

“Oh. Yes, well.” Aziraphale had rather forgotten that his wings were still visible. He’d been rather enjoying having the cool night air in his feathers. He shifted reality and hid them away on a different plane of existence. “Don’t you two have homes to be going to?” 

There was a tense silence and Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel like he’d accidentally stumbled on something important. “That was the reason we were trying to summon the demon,” Jack mumbled. 

“Whatever would you need a demon for?” 

“It’s my step-dad. He convinced my mum to kick me out. Said I was useless and didn’t deserve to live under "his” roof even though it was our house first.” Jack looked down at the ground. “I’ve got nowhere to go. Dom’s parents don’t have any room for me and I don’t have many friends.” 

Aziraphale felt anger bubbling up inside of him. How could anyone treat their own child so poorly. “Where are they?” he demanded. 

“What?” 

“Your parents where do they live?” 

“Follow me.” 

The three of them headed out of the field and down a narrow lane before coming to a well-lit road somewhere on the outskirts of the town. They continued a little further down the road before stopping outside a brick house. “That’s my house. They’re probably asleep though.” 

“No matter,” Aziraphale said as he walked up to the door with a terifying purpose that sent shivers down the teens' spines. He unlocked the door and was about to go inside before he turned back to the rather confused boys staring at him from the garden. “Best you wait here. I’ll only be a moment.” 

The boys watched as the angel disappeared inside. A few seconds later they saw a blinding white light burst through the window on the top floor, lighting up the front of the house. It remained for a moment before vanishing. The two then heard rushed footsteps coming down the stairs before the door was flung open and Jack’s mum embraced him in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. Oh, my son, I’m sorry,” she began weeping. 

Jack’s step-dad soon emerged into the garden, swiftly followed by the angel. “Leave now,” he said. There was a strange rumble in the air as he spoke. The man practically ran away down the street, fearful of the angel and his divine wrath. 

It wasn’t long before a familiar Bentley pulled up in front of the house and a red headed demon climbed out. “Aziraphale, though that was you I could sense.” 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale couldn’t help but embrace his demon. It had been quite an eventful night after all. 

At the mention of the name both Jack and Dom turned to look at him. “You’re the demon Crowley?” 

“Who are you? Do I know you?” he scowled. Then a thought occurred to him. “Were you the onesss who sssummoned Aziraphale?” he couldn’t help but let out a hiss with his rising anger. 

“Y-yes but... we meant to summon you. The book was wrong though.” Dom stammered. Jack was still stuck trying to calm his mum down, too traumatised by whatever the angel had done to her to let go of her son. 

“Crowley, calm down. I’m fine. I’m afraid it seems to be a simple case of mistaken identity.” Aziraphale tried to placate the demon before he did something rash. “Let’s just go back to London.” 

“Fine,” he snapped. “If either of you ever try to summon either of us again, I promise it will be the last thing you ever do.” He jabbed a finger in their direction.

“We wouldn’t be able to anyway. The angel took our book,” Jack shrugged as best he could with his mum still clinging to him. 

Aziraphale held up the book as proof. “Fine. Angel get in we’re going home,” he growled as he got back in to the Bentley. 

“Thank you!” Jack called as the angel went to the passenger side of the car. 

“She’ll be fine by the morning. I doubt she’ll remember much of what happened.” With that he got in the car and soon they were speeding back to London. 

“So, what exactly happened? Mistaken identity? How does that happen?” Crowley asked after five minutes of driving. 

“I’m not entirely sure my dear, but it seems that whoever wrote the book they used got our names mixed up.” 

“Did we know this person?” 

“I didn’t. John Clarke around the 1560’s?” 

“Oh, yeah I met him a few times, I think. Bit of a weird fellow. Asked me about Heaven and Hell. I never told him I was a demon mind. He’d just convinced himself he was some kind of demon expert. What did he put in this book then?” 

“Mostly it’s all nonsense. The only reason those boys could summon me was because he seems to have copied out a generic holding circle from another book and just happened to know our names. Although it seems he didn’t know who was who and took a fifty-fifty guess.” 

“What are you going to do with the book? Destroy it?” Crowley said with a smirk, knowing full well his angel was physically incapable of destroying books. 

“Well, I don’t see why I should now that I’ve got it. I’ll lock it away in the back room. It’ll be perfectly safe.” 

They sat in comfortable silence for a while before Crowley piped up with another question. “What did you do to that woman? She seemed distraught.” 

“Oh, yes her. Well you see, she had an abusive partner who had forced her to kick her own son out. I simply showed her a possible future where she ends up alone and hasn’t seen her son in many years. It was enough to give her the courage to kick him out. She’ll remember it as a nightmare. As for that man, well, he won’t be returning, ever.” 

“Oh angel,” the demon smiled fondly. “Say, there’s still a bottle of wine at the bookshop. Fancy finishing it off together?” 

The angel practically beamed. “Of course. Then you can perhaps finish that story you were telling me earlier.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to message me on tumblr at [armaggedidnt](https://armaggedidnt.tumblr.com/)


End file.
